


Under Glass

by lies_d



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lies_d/pseuds/lies_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Dib is Irken a clone created by Professor Membrane. He finds himself trapped with Zim in Membrane's research lab in what was <i>supposed</i> to be a short test study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Dad. . .this isn’t going to work. . .can’t you see the way he’s looking at me. . .He KNOWS!. . .pull me up pull me up pull me up! THIS ISN’T GOING TO WORK!!_

Biting his lip, Dib struggled against his bonds and tried not to cry out. The alien was crouched in the darkness of the corner of the room, watching him. His huge, pupil-less eyes terrified Dib. He’d had been exposed to endless amounts of pictures and research footage, but somehow nothing had prepared him for this.

Dib was supposed to say something. . .talk to the alien. His father was watching – the entire research team was watching. This was a momentous occasion, the culmination of a fifteen year project that would surely end in horrible failure if he couldn’t get himself under control.

In a vain effort to end his shaking, Dib closed his eyes. He was _supposed_ to say _something._ He opened his mouth. All that escaped were sobs. Tears were running down his cheeks.

“P-please. . . _please_. . .”

With a fierce growl the alien jumped onto the table to which Dib was strapped, and was then immediately thrown back by the protective force field.

 _Yes! See! He knows! You’ve got to lift me back up now, Dad! Da-aaad!_

Dib’s relief at his imminent rescue began to melt into dread. His father didn’t lift his table back up into safety. The alien was circling the room, his keen eyes searching. It only took him a few moments to find the table’s weak spot and another few moments to tear out its power supply cable with a tool that Professor Membrane’s research team didn’t know he had. The force field deactivated with a crackle.

The alien was right on top of him. Helpless, Dib squeezed his eyes shut and screamed.

Dib had no idea how long terror had rendered him insensate, but when he came to he found himself being carried through a narrow passageway by strong, wiry arms.

“ _Stupid_ , horrible, scummy _scum_. . .filthy planet of _worms_. . .their _filthy_ worm faces. . .I _hate_ this _stupid_ planet of hideousness. . .”

Dumped unceremoniously onto a pile of rags, Dib scrabbled backwards and found himself up against the wall in a deeper part of the habitat.

“You may rest easy now. Zim has rescued you from the hideous clutches of the human scum.” The alien proclaimed, fists on his hips.

Still speechless, Dib cowered and began to cry again. Why hadn’t his father saved him?

The alien, Zim, seemed disgusted by his tears. He grabbed Dib by the collar and gave him two sharp slaps across the face. “Get a grip on yourself, soldier!” He shouted in his face, then dropped him back into the rags.

Shocked by the brief pain on his cheeks, Dib stared up with eyes wide at the irate alien.

“I’ve known every kind of torture those pitiful apes can dole out, and none of it’s bad enough to lose your head over. You don’t even have any gaping wounds!” Said Zim, giving him a brief look-over.

Dib shook his head. The alien’s words were finally sinking into his brain. _It’s working – it’s actually working. He thinks I’m one of his kind!_ Dib stood up unsteadily.

Zim seemed pleased. “What’s your name and rank, soldier?” He asked.

“My name’s Dib. Um. . .I don’t have a rank.”

The alien’s eyes narrowed at him and Dib winced, sure that he’d blown it.

“No rank? Smeets are ranked ten minutes after birth. Where, might I ask, did you come from?”

“I. . .I was stolen from my, uh, place of birth, right after I was born.” Dib’s brain finally lurched to the rescue. It even sounded vaguely like the story he’d been given by his father’s researchers.

It was the alien’s turn to be shocked. His eyes became round and his antennae lay down flat against the back of his head.

“That. . .that _filth._ The insolence of those HIDEOUS slime-worms!!” Zim shook with rage. With a violent yell, he struck the wall with his fist hard enough to make a tiny dent. Still growling, he advanced on Dib, who drew back instinctively and fell onto the rag pile.

Kneeling in front of Dib, the alien leaned in and began to inspect him more thoroughly. His eyes still burned with rage, but his touch was surprisingly gentle.

“Have you never been to Irk? Never seen our glorious empire?” Asked Zim as he ran his fingertips over Dib’s forearms, then pulled back his eyelids to examine his eyeballs.

“No.” Replied Dib. He had gotten very used to doctors’ poking and prodding, but this was different somehow. _They_ were human, with their human eyes and their human skin, their human clothes and voices and smells. This being touching him now was not. “I’ve never even met someone. . .like me.” He’d heard it was useful to blend truth in with his lies. It was.

Zim looked into his eyes. His mouth drew into a line. “You have my pity.” He said. “It is. . .very good to see another of my species, after all this time.”

Zim stood up. Dib followed suit. Zim gave Dib a salute that Dib hesitantly mimicked. It seemed to satisfy Zim.

“Well, smeetling. My name is _ZIM._ My rank, _Invader._ And my expert eye tells me that you’re cut from invader material as well. From this moment forth you may consider yourself to be under my protective wing. Fear not, smeetling! Though we find ourselves in the temporary clutches of our diabolical enemies, _Zim_ will teach you to conduct yourself as befitting an invader of the Irken Empire, and soon, together, we will make our glorious ESCAPE!”


	2. Chapter 2

Project Zim began sixteen years ago when a young scientist named Professor Membrane discovered the crash landing site of an alien vessel near the North Pole. Taking a brief hiatus from the construction of his Anti-Santa Arsenal which had since then been his life's work, Professor Membrane captured the landed alien and took charge of the research team assigned to its study, quickly becoming the foremost xenobiological expert on the planet.

Project Dib began over fifteen years ago. It was one of Professor Membrane’s pet projects, a cloning experiment using his own DNA, designed to essentially create a viable genetic offspring - a son. He couldn’t help but use a dash of genetic material from the exciting new sample his team was working on. The results were quite satisfactory. He managed to create a child with the mind of a human being, his own intellectual heir, and with a body that had all the characteristics of a completely alien species. The project was declared a success, and the child was named Dib. Plans were made to someday use him in facilitating the study of subject Zim.

Project Gaz came later, but that's another story.

~~~

Dib sat on the cold metal floor, watching Zim make scratches in the rust of the southernmost wall. It had taken a week and covered the entirety of the northern walls of the habitat, but Dib had finally begun to grasp the basics of the Irken alphabet, which Zim had insisted was essential to the rest of his education.

Today’s lesson: Galactic political astronomy.

Zim had just finished an intricate drawing of a small planet, complete with main cities and landmarks. He pointed to it dramatically. “THIS is IRK, our glorious home planet!” Then he made a large circle around the planet, its solar system, and a sizeable group of solar systems surrounding it. “THIS is the Irken Empire, which our kind has managed to conquer in only the past six-hundred cycles. And these–” he drew other circles around various star systems. “Are other nation-territories. The Vortian Circle, the Meekrob Alliance, etc etc. . .they aren’t really important but I might tell you about them later after I finish telling you about Irk, the Empire, and the space we’ve designated for conquest in the _next_ six hundred cycles.” Zim drew a circle that encompassed the entirety of the wall.

Dib raised his hand.

“Yes, Dib.” Said Zim.

“Um. . .where’s Earth in relation to all of this. I mean, the planet that we’re on right now.”

Zim looked at the chart mumbled some numbers to himself. He placed a small circle right on the edge of the wall. “There.” He said.

“Oh.” Said Dib, not sure if he was happy or disappointed that they seemed to be so far away from the more active places in the universe. He waited patiently while Zim re-drew the map on the two adjacent walls to represent the second and third dimensions, then began the lesson proper.

After having subjected Zim to years of physical study and experimentation, the scientists had finally sewn all of his parts back on and decided to study his behavior instead. Nearly every inch of this underground habitat that his captors had provided for him was monitored by tiny cameras embedded in the walls, a fact that apparently Zim didn’t know.

Zim had, in the past two weeks since Dib had arrived to ask him questions, provided them with all the information they’d ever want from him. Which meant that Dib’s job here was done. He had expected his father to release him one or two hours after he’d arrived – which was the original plan, or so he’d been told. His father hadn’t come. Hours, days, weeks now.

Dib had panicked a little after the first week, running aimlessly from one end of the habitat to the other, screaming “Let me out!”. Then Zim had given him another firm slap to bring him to his senses – he seemed to enjoy doing just a little that too much.

Dib never really fully overcame his initial fear of the alien. Only now it was tinged with a sharp fascination. The alien reminded him, strangely enough, of his father. There was the same confidence bordering on arrogance, and the same dogged determination, the same certain obliviousness to facts that he didn’t want to know.

Zim had spent the better part of the last decade being dissected in a jar, subjected to the most horrible experiments science could think to visit upon him, but still they didn’t come close to breaking him. He was the very definition of defiance. He was the fiercest person Dib had ever met, and Dib found himself drawn inexorably to him.

After a lengthy lesson, Dib discovered that he was getting tired.

“I need to sleep now, okay Zim?” He got up and headed for the small room with the makeshift rag-bed in it.

Zim scowled. He still didn’t like this whole ‘sleeping’ business Dib needed to do every night. Irkens soldiers only needed to sleep when they were deathly ill – Zim thought it must be indicative of some brain damage the humans had caused Dib during an experiment.

The simple fact was that the Pak on Dib’s back contained a few useful tools, but was otherwise only for show – his human meat-brain did all of his functioning for him, and it still needed sleep.

Pulling his rag-covers up, Dib closed his eyes and thought about Zim, who was crouched on the ground beside him, keeping watch as he did every night while Dib slept.

 _Even my dad was never this protective of me,_ was Dib’s last thought before he drifted off.

~~~

When he came to, Dib was back in the lab compound.

“Well, well, well – look who’s awake!” Said a voice from one of the speakers on the wall. Looking over, Dib saw Simmons wave cheerily from behind the thick glass wall of the observation workstation.

Dib rubbed his eyes and grumpily wished that it were any other of his father’s scientists here with him. He was used to their coldness, the way they treated him like a sample in a petrie dish. Simmons was the only one who went out of his way to talk to him and play friendly, but he always somehow put Dib on edge.

“Where’s. . .my Dad?” Asked Dib groggily. He felt like he’d been drugged.

“Oh, he was called away to Berlin, some sort of emergency or other – you know how it is.” Simmons smiled his dead-fish smile. “Don’t worry – he left me in charge.”

Dib tried to shake away the gauziness in his head. It wouldn’t budge. “Zim! He was watching me – he’ll be worried sick. You have to let me. . .just explain–”

“Oh don’t worry about your little friend. We shot him full of sedatives before we took you, and you’ll be back before he wakes up. He’ll never even know you were gone.”

“I’m. . .going back?” Asked Dib.

“Of course you are.” Simmons nodded smugly. “We’ve still got data to collect.”

“What data. . .do you want me to ask him more questions?”

Simmons chuckled. “Not quite. Don’t worry –”

 _He keeps saying that._ Thought Dib anxiously.

“–Let’s just say that you’ll be working for the greater good.” With an inane grin, Simmons lifted his hand, revealing the control glove on it. Nearby, one of the robotic arms installed in the room mimicked his action, retrieving a steel tray containing two full syringes.

Dib only just realized that his arms were strapped down. He didn’t think he could do much with them anyways, what with the state he was in. “What’s that?” Asked Dib.

“This? This is just a little more sedative.” Simmons answered as the robotic arm administered one of the two syringes.

 _Like I need anymore sedative. Hey! What’s in that other one?_ Thought Dib, but was unable to speak as his mouth went slack.

Simmons smiled coldly from behind his glass shield. The robotic hand began to flick the needle of the second syringe just as Dib passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

“Dad. . .Zim. . .help. . .” Dib woke with a start.

“What’s wrong, smeetling?” Said Zim, reaching his side in less than a second.

Taking a deep breathe, Dib tried to wave Zim off, but the alien was intent on hovering over him like a mother hen.

“Please, don’t. . .don’t touch me. It kind of burns.”

Backing off, Zim took his hands away from where he’d been trying to examine Dib’s neck.

“I think it was just a bad dream.” Said Dib, rubbing his skin.

“Bad dreams don’t cause burning skin, smeetling. Let me look – I’m just going to look.”

Reluctantly, Dib took his hands away and allowed Zim to inspect the skin of his neck, and then his arms.

“AHA! Those filthy hair-mongers have been here!” Zim pointed to a needleprick mark on Dib’s forearm, then began to search his own skin. “They likely took me unawares as well, although I’m not feeling any adverse effects – I’ve probably got a stronger constitution than you do, smeetling.” Zim found a similar needle-mark on his thigh, and nodded sagely.

“I wonder what they did.” Said Dib weakly.

“Probably something we should be glad we were unconscious for.” Zim snorted. “You should rest. Conserve your energy.”

Dib nodded. He felt feverish. Gingerly, he lay back down.

“Zim. . .” Said Dib.

“Yes, smeetling?” Said Zim, taking his place beside Dib’s bed.

“Thank you.”

Zim frowned. “For what? I didn’t. . .I couldn’t keep them away.”

Dib smiled. “It helps just to know that you’re here.”

Looking away, Zim shrugged.

“Zim. . .listen. If someday, maybe even someday soon, they take me away from here. . .you. . .you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

Zim turned around to look him in the eye. There was something in that look – Dib couldn’t read it. He didn’t think Zim believed him. There was more than that, too. . .

Dib turned away. He didn’t think one look could ever do so much to him – maybe it was just the fever. Settling back down, he tried to sleep.

~~~

The fever didn’t abate.

Zim took his hands away from Dib’s wrist and felt his cheeks and forehead again.

“Y-ep.” He said, for the third time.

“What?” Demanded Dib. He hadn’t slept in five days and he thought he might be starting to hallucinate.

Sighing, Zim crossed his arms. “Well, I couldn’t tell for sure without a more thorough examination.”

“No! You’re not looking at my. . .” Dib covered his crotch protectively. “Just tell me what it is!”

“Hmmph. You’re not going to like this, earth-Smeet. I’ve seen this before. It’s not pretty.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

Zim pursed his lips and checked Dib’s pulse yet again, suddenly awkward.

“What? _What!?_ ”

“It’s a virus.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And _I’m_ immune. . .”

“Oh, bully for you, Zim.”

Zim couldn’t seem to bring himself to meet Dib’s eyes. He kept looking anxiously over at his neck and his hands, as if afraid of the symptoms he saw there.

“I don't know what it's called. The dirt-monkeys have already injected me with it. It’s. . .some local filth. I survived. So will you. But the next few dozen cycles are going to be very unpleasant.”

"A few _dozen cycles. . .?" Dib shook his head, incredulous. “This can’t be right. . .They wouldn’t do that. . .”_

 _“But they _did,_ smeetling. What kind of creatures did you think you were dealing with?”_

Dib shook his head. He was one of those creatures. Or at least, he’d been raised to believe that he was – that the most important part of him was still, after all was said and done, human.

Dib curled himself up in a ball and tried to calm down.

Only a minute of silence passed before he lost it. He began to shake with sobs.

“Hold me, Zim?”

Zim had no idea how to comfort with touch – the instinct had long since been left behind by a species bred in cold glass tubes. Dib clung to him and all he could do was passively allow it, though it finally occurred to him to bring his arms up around the boy. It seemed to be exactly what Dib needed.

Zim had no idea why it should be important to him to comfort Dib – he didn’t question that, for the moment, it felt right for him too.

~~~

 _Dib was back at skool. He hated skool. Even though his father had perfected the holo-disguise that made him physically indistinguishable from the other kids, he’d always felt that they’d known somehow. Ms. Bitters was searching the hall. He could see her shadow creeping towards him – it grinned at him. Terrified, he ran._

“Dad. . .Dad?” Dib remembered at one point calling, as he wandered dazedly around the habitat. Zim couldn’t restrain him anymore – even though he stumbled a bit when he walked the halls, he did less damage to himself that way than he did thrashing around on the makeshift bed. The fire in his blood wouldn’t let him stay still. His feet were a mess of sores opened by the pacing.

“I’m sorry, son. . .can’t let you out now. . .virus. . .still highly contagious. . .” He heard from a distant, hidden speaker.

“Didn’t know. . .had to evacuate. . .tests over soon. . .sorry. . .”


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken over a month for Dib to come around. It had been horrible. His skin was still pocked with fading sores and the wounds he’d inflicted on himself scratching them. Luckily, he’d been delusional and feverish for most of it, and now found that he could barely remember anything except for the sight of Zim sitting with him, attending him, holding him once he began to heal.

“Zim?”

“Yes?”

“What do I, well, look like? I mean. . .I’ve never seen another Irken, besides you. . .am I, do I look. . .okay?” Dib had always been deathly afraid that someone would find out about him, about the way he really looked. For one thing, he was _short._ Not as short as Zim, but, well, pretty short by human standards. He had big red eyes, and green skin, and these little antennae that stuck out from the top of his head. Since Professor Membrane had provided him with the holo-disguise, just before he’d started kindergarten, Dib hadn’t actually had to look at his real body more than a few times a year, for the physical examinations he received at his father’s lab. He knew that by human standards he was ugly.

Zim obviously thought the question was a strange one, but it made more sense than the babbling he’d been doing recently.

“You look like a soldier. Right now you look like an ill soldier. You are tall.”

Dib smiled, but still looked at Zim expectantly. Zim seemed always to understand now when he needed more.

“You do look. . . _fine._ A fine specimen of a soldier. Very symmetrical.” Said Zim, searching.

Dib nodded and took Zim’s hand.

Although Dib was still weak, it seemed as though he’d come through the worst of it. Most of his time now was spent resting, allowing Zim to bring him food.

Dib couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to him as though they were alone. In his sickly daze, he’d smashed nearly all of the tiny wall monitors, which had yet to be retracted and repaired. The nutrient cubes they were given still dispensed, thought Dib knew those to be in nearly endless automated supply.

One of the only memories he had of his illness was of walking through the halls in a daze, calling out for his Dad. He thought, he thought he remembered hearing his father say the word ‘evacuate’.

Anyways, he was as alone now as he would ever get, except for Zim.

Dib never thought things could change so utterly, so swiftly. In the space of a few weeks, it seemed, he’d lost everything he’d ever thought was important to him. His entire life – the life he thought he’d had, the person he thought he was, the family he’d been under the delusion he was a part of. He was just an experiment now – an interesting toy for Professor Membrane’s scientists to play with, just like Zim.

 _Zim._ At least he still had Zim. In his own terse way, the alien had been more kind to him than anyone had been in his entire life.

Dib was beginning to appreciate the beauty of fine, green skin. The more he touched Zim, the more touch Zim returned instinctively. He had the distinct feeling that he was being humoured, but he didn’t mind. The plain discomfort that Zim had displayed the first few times that Dib touched him had been replaced with a sort of detached fascination – it was just one more odd habit taken on by the child-like creature that had been raised away from the benefit of proper Irken society.

He leaned over and kissed Zim once, experimentally. He didn’t really know what he was doing or why. He liked it, though. He liked the way Zim’s lips felt against his own. He liked the way it felt to think that no one was attending the habitat monitors, nobody watching him for once in his life. He liked the look on Zim’s face – not surprised, exactly, just curious: What was his strange little ‘earth-smeet’ doing now?

Dib smiled sheepishly and pulled back, settling into the comfort Zim’s slender embrace.

~~~

The lights went out just as Dib thought he might be on the verge of full recovery.

 _That’s it. . .the project’s been abandoned – they’ve gathered all the information they possibly could. We’ve been abandoned. Our food will run out sooner or later. This habitat is still completely impenetrable. We’re trapped. That’s all. That’s it._

It’s a strange feeling to panic while at the same time being perfectly calm.

 _I wish they’d at least have the decency to terminate us properly._ Dib thought darkly, but didn’t say.

Zim almost didn’t notice the darkness. To him it was a minor inconvenience – just another incident in the string of annoyances visited upon him by this planet and its inhabitants. He’d decided that he would resume Dib’s lessons, and now that their makeshift scratchboards were no longer available, he would simply have to deliver them orally.

For the next few days, Zim’s voice was all that Dib had to hold onto.

They huddled together for warmth when the heat shut down. Zim told Dib about all the fantastical beasts that roamed on the planets of the outer rim, the crystalline cities of the Asoran system, and the wondrous electrical storms of the Zolla Nebula.

The second time that Dib kissed Zim, it was longer than the first. Dib knew even less what he was doing, or why. Desperately, he ran his hands over Zim’s body. There was a hunger in him now. A hunger for touch, for life. He pressed himself against the alien, the not-so-alien.

Zim chuckled. Dib could almost hear his non-existent eyebrow lift. Dib was on fire and Zim could only stroke his cheek reassuringly.

Slowly Dib let his hand creep down in between Zim’s legs. As Dib’s nimble fingers explored what he found there, he heard Zim give a small gasp. Soon Zim began to move as well. Touch for touch. Caress leaning into caress.

Once he’d found his pleasure point, Zim was much more direct about it than Dib knew how to be. He pressed Dib’s hand with his own, massaging the spot where, to Dib’s surprise, a protrusion began to emerge from within two folds of flesh.

Dib supposed he ought not be too surprised. A word rose up from the dim memory of his previous life: _hermaphrodite._ They were both hermaphrodite. It was a clinical definition that became real in a very visceral way as Zim suddenly rolled him onto his back, parted his legs, and pushed his warm member into the opening just under the base of Dib’s own hardened cock. Dib made a few choked moans as Zim began to thrust urgently into him. Feeling Zim’s member slide in and out of himself was incredible – he never thought he had so many nerves hiding just inside of that small opening. And the pressure on his own cock with each thrust that Zim made. . .Dib thought that surely there would be release soon, but the pleasure just kept building and building until Dib felt as though he might pass out.

When Zim finally gave a final groan and filled Dib with his seed, without missing a beat, Dib rolled Zim over and shoved his own cock into Zim’s opening. Zim moaned just as he had. Dib rutted just as frantically.

In a frenzy they continued to fuck each other’s brains out. Neither could even remember the point at which they collapsed, exhausted and weak-limbed into slumber.


	5. Chapter 5

Dib woke up in the morning in his own bed, in his own pajamas, in his own house – or at least his Dad’s house, the house he’d grown up in. Dazedly, he stared up at the ‘I believe’ poster on his ceiling. It seemed so familiar and yet so utterly bizarre. He looked at his hands – his holo-disguise had coloured them in the pinkish flesh tones of his father’s skin. Sitting up in bed, Dib looked over at the mirror. His antennae were hidden and his eyes were their colour their more usual white and amber.

He was so confused. . .he couldn’t remember what had happened to him yesterday, or the day before that. He didn’t know why it should feel so strange just to wake up in his own bed, in his own house.

He thought. . .he thought he’d had a dream. There had been darkness, and warmth, ghostly arms that wrapped around him, an urgent rhythm of thrusting and bucking. . .

 _Oh. One of those dreams._ Embarrassed that even the hinting memory of such a dream could produce such a. . .physical reaction, Dib tried to shake it off and concentrate on the here and now.

His brushed his teeth with the special paste his father had invented for him. The liquid that poured out of his private shower was oil-based – it cleansed his skin without burning it the way water did.

Gaz was sitting on the couch, playing her Gameslave. Dib sat down beside her, pulling his blanket up over his shoulders.

“I’m not feeling real well today – do you think Dad would be too busy to send in a sick note to skool for me?”

“It’s August. Skool doesn’t start for two weeks.” Came Gaz’s terse reply.

Startled, Dib looked up at her. It was hard to tell if Gaz was kidding sometimes – her own DNA included strands from a demon that Professor Membrane’s team had caught briefly fifteen years ago, and she was prone to cruel jokes as well as scary powers.

“I remember it being May the last time I went to Skool. If it’s August, where have I been for the last three months?” Asked Dib.

“In Dad’s research lab, with that alien – what was his name? Oh yeah. Zim.” Replied Gaz, her eyes never leaving her game screen. “They injected you with Ebola virus, and it took you awhile to recover. The drugs you’ve been on have blocked your memory a bit, but I thought you might want to know.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Dib nodded and leaned back. The memories might be a little foggy, but they were there. Hearing Zim’s name had brought things back, in bits and pieces. Dib found that he just couldn’t think about them, or _him_. . .too much. It ached. It was like trying to remember a dream. No matter how beautiful or terrible, it was another world. And it was gone now.

“Ebola virus, eh?”

“Yep. Two scientists died when it leaked out into the lab.”

“You don’t say.”

Gaz shrugged. “They’ve got a cure now, based on some chemical in your blood. Obviously _you_ survived.”

Dib nodded blankly. “I guess it was all worth it, then.”

“I guess so.” Said Gaz, her voice edged with sarcasm.

Dib didn’t want to think it anymore. He didn’t want to think about anything at all. He reached over to the side table for the TV remote.

“You don’t want to do that.” Commented Gaz.

“I’ll decide for myself what I do and don’t want to do.” Dib replied, a bit lamely. He felt frustrated just then, and Gaz was starting to chafe on his nerves.

Gaz shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She got up from the couch and took herself and her Gameslave into the kitchen.

Dib turned on the TV and flipped through various daytime talk shows. There was a station that broadcasted repeats of last week’s evening shows – Dib hoped that they might be showing Mysterious Mysteries, and by some incredible stroke of luck, they were.

The show’s logo, MM, was imprinted on the corner of the screen. Dib had missed the credits, but they were obviously already into the story. They were playing some video footage.

The footage was a bit grainy, having been apparently recorded in night vision, and there was a black ‘censored’ bar covering a small portion of it. It took Dib a little while to discern what the mess of limbs was supposed to be.

He nearly choked when he saw his own face, contorted in ecstasy. It was himself. And Zim. They were having sex. The monitors had been on after all, and not only had the scientists had the opportunity to goggle over the footage, one of their unscrupulous ranks had been sneaking out copies out and selling them to the media.

Dumbstruck, Dib finally managed to lift the remote and change the channel. The next channel was also playing alien-sex footage. And the next channel. And the next. They were all playing completely different clips – different positions, different rooms. Dib had had no way of knowing how long the blackout had lasted, but it had seemed like forever at the time. He and Zim had eaten sparingly, and he had slept when he was tired, but mostly they’d had a lot of sex. Together they’d explored every position and technique their fevered imaginations could come up with. And here it all was, displayed on public television, for the entertainment of the drooling, stupid masses.

One of the talk shows debated the legality of the footage. One side argued that one of the participants wasn’t an adult yet, and so the sex videos should be treated as child pornography. The other argued that neither of the participants were human, and thus couldn’t claim the human rights that would make such pornography illegal. The latter party seemed to be winning the argument, although both parties agreed that anyone who could take sexual pleasure from watching such material was a sick, sick individual indeed.

Another talk show featured a blown-up picture of a diagram. Dib chuckled despite himself and the tears rolling down his cheeks. Zim had scratched it into the wall. It depicted all of the sexual positions they could think of, and had been added to numerous times. Zim had taken the whole ‘sex’ business very seriously, once they’d properly discovered it. He had used the diagram to keep track of how frequently they used each position. It might almost have been a science project for Zim, except for how incredibly, painfully, breathtakingly passionate he was in the act. It had been pragmatic, and sweet, and desperate, and beautiful. It had been _theirs._ Except that it hadn’t ever really been only theirs. It belonged to the human masses now – shocking, tawdry, cheap, and embarrassing.

Dib sat huddled on the couch in front of the horrible display, sobbing. Silently Gaz came into the room and took the remote from his numb hands, ending it. She offered him a handful of tissue paper, which he took gratefully. She didn’t say _I told you so._ She didn’t even imply it. Dib knew then she must have always understood even better than he did. They were both products of their ‘father’s’ devotion to science, no matter how much they really loved and needed him. She was just waiting for them to drag her into the lab as well, to do whatever test they needed to perform in the interests of humanity.

Gaz sat with Dib until he’d calmed down. Wiping the last traces of tears from his face, Dib finally got up weakly.

“I’m gonna go back to bed. I’m still not feeling very well.”

Gaz nodded.

“Then, I think I’m gonna go talk to Dad. Are you. . .do you think you’re going to stay here long?”

Gaz grunted and smiled that fleeting half-smile of hers. “No. I’m going out for pizza later. I might not see you before you leave. But good luck, Dib.”

Dib nodded went up the stairs for a few more hour’s sleep. He would figure out what to do after that. He knew he had to do something.


	6. Chapter 6

Dib got through all the compound checkpoints by claiming he was on his way to Professor Membrane’s lab for another test. Most waved him through with a snicker or a knowing smirk.

He’d almost reached the habitat’s entrance when someone finally stopped him in the hall – and that someone just had to be Simmons.

“Whoah, hey there little buddy!” The scientist actually had the nerve to put his hand on Dib’s shoulder. Dib shrugged away and tried to continue, but Simmons stepped in his way.

“You’re not supposed to be back here –“

“Where’s my dad? I want to talk to my dad.”

“You’re dad - ? Oh! You mean Professor Membrane! He’s away on some important business. Go back home – he’ll be by to check up on you eventually. Or at the very least he’ll send someone.”

Dib balled his fists. Anger and frustration were rising in the back of throat like bile. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“When will he be back?” Asked Dib through clenched teeth.

Simmons shrugged inanely. “Who knows?” His smile made Dib want to it rip off of his face with his bare hands. He suppressed the urge, just barely.

“Okay. Look. I need to see Zim.”

“Oh! Well, you don’t need to talk to Professor Membrane to see your little friend – he’s been reassigned to another project, and I’ve been put in charge of this one. The monitoring stations are just back up the hall a bit. It wouldn’t be any trouble to let you take a quick peek.”

“No, I mean I want to _talk_ to him. Face to face. I want to go inside the habitat again. . .I mean I just. . .I need to. . .”

Simmons’s eyebrow had lifted ever so slightly. That smirk appeared – the same one Dib had been getting all day. Somehow, this one suggested something even dirtier than all the rest.

Dib felt his cheeks growing hot. “Look. I just need to talk to him one more time, to explain things.”

“Mm-hmm.” Simmons nodded knowingly. “Well, you know Dib, letting you into the monitoring station would be one thing, but letting you into the habitat itself, for any reason, well, that would be quite a different matter, wouldn’t it?”

“I thought you were in charge around here.”

“I am, but there are rules to be followed. Letting you into the habitat would be, well, contrary to the rules.” Simmons licked his lips. “I could do it – I am in charge around here. We could call it a favour – and a pretty big one, if you ask me. If I do you a favour, I would be well within my rights to ask for a favour in return, now wouldn’t I?”

Dib swallowed hard, fighting back a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. Something in the way Simmons was smiling gave him a good idea of exactly what kind of favour Simmons would want from him.

“I need to see Zim.” Said Dib. It was all he could think to say.

Simmons smiled and led him into a small room nearby. It was one of the sample testing labs – high-powered microscopes lined the walls, their soft green light the only illumination in an otherwise dark room. Locking the door, Simmons approached Dib and put his hand on his shoulder.

When Simmons reached for the zipper of his pants, something in Dib snapped. Reaching over to a nearby counter, he grabbed the first instrument he could find – a pair of long tweezers. His first wild stab missed completely as Simmons had the presence of mind to jump back. His second swipe caught Simmons’s lab coat, making a long tear. The third found only air as Simmons was able to catch his arm and pry the tweezers from his grasp. Dib struggled but Simmons pulled him close and held the tweezers to his neck.

“Now you listen to me. I have control of this project now. I can see to it that you never see your little friend again. I could have him put back into the physio-experiment circuit again. I could even have the project terminated if I really wanted. So I suggest you learn to play _nice_. Got it?”

Dib could feel the tweezers’ sharp points dig into his neck. He thought of Zim and what this maniac could do to him if he was crossed. Dib nodded.

Simmons loosened his grip and continued where he’d left off earlier. This time Dib complied.

Dib had done this a few times before, with Zim. He remembered how pleased he’d been with himself that first time – Zim had never heard of such an act and had been thoroughly amazed. He tried to think of that time with Zim. Move the tongue. Watch the teeth. It was harder to ignore the taste this time. _Humans taste awful,_ he decided.

It didn’t take very long. As soon as Simmons’s spunk hit the back of his throat Dib began to retch.

The door panel beeped as it unlocked and allowed the door to slide open. Simmons released his grip on Dib’s head. Dib immediately doubled over and vomited onto the floor. Some of the water-based slime had gotten past his esophagus, burning the whole way down.

“Oh, hi there, Professor Membrane!” Said Simmons as he quickly did up his pants. “Well isn’t this embarrassing – I thought you were still in Asia. How is your little project. . ?”

“Get out.” Said Professor Membrane.

“Right.” Replied Simmons. He still had that shit-eating smile on his face, but he gave the other scientist a wide berth as he made his way out the door. Dib glanced up – he’d never seen his father look so close to physically attacking another human being. He didn’t, though. The doors slid closed after Simmons and Dib continued to gag and cough the whitish fluid out onto the floor.

The Professor fished a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and knelt down beside Dib to give it to him.

“Haven’t I always told you not to ingest water-based substances?” Said Professor Membrane.

Dib wiped his mouth and spit a few more times onto the floor. The coughing had nearly subsided – he could feel the itch of skin healing in his throat already.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” Dib croaked.

Professor Membrane took a moment to compose his reply.

“Well,” He said. “Simmons is a fine man of science, although I’ll admit he’s shown in the past to have a rather questionable ethical policy. . .but I still don’t think he’s a suitable choice for you to be, well, carrying on with.”

“Choice? You think that was my choice?” _He said he’d let me see Zim, that if I didn’t, then he’d do horrible things. . .and I mean, he had this pair of tweezers. . ._ Dib wrapped his arms around himself. It all sounded so stupid in his head. Hot shame coloured his cheeks.

“Oh. I see.” Said Professor Membrane. He became very quiet for a moment. “He’ll pay. Very dearly.” He laid his hand on Dib’s shoulder. “I swear.”

Trying his best to keep control of himself, Dib stared down at the floor. “Dad. . .” He choked a little on the word. “How could you let all of this happen. . .not that, but well, everything. This whole summer. Even if you were taken off the project, I mean, couldn’t you at least have. . .done something. I’m your son, or at least you’ve always raised me to believe I am. . .and they. . .” Dib shook his head. He was so sick of crying. Wiping his eyes, he looked up at Professor Membrane. “ _Why?_ ”

The Professor didn’t shrug – indecisiveness was anathema to his nature. His response was direct. “It was all in the name of science.” He said.

Swallowing hard, Dib nodded. “Sure. Makes sense.” He held himself tightly. Deep breathe – in, out. . .No, it wouldn’t work. He broke. He turned his head away so that Professor Membrane wouldn’t see his face as he cried softly.

“Did you ever really love me?” Whispered Dib.

Professor Membrane gathered Dib up in his arms. Dib had always been surprised by how large his father was. If there had ever been any reason for Dib to hate him, it seemed far away now, but he received no other reply. For these few moments, it didn’t matter. As it had been all his life, it seemed, Dib would make do with what he got.


	7. Chapter 7

Dib climbed into the lift. It hadn’t even made its full trip downwards before he could hear Zim’s frantic pounding against the airlock doors.

No – no. I’m okay, see! Don’t hurt yourself over me!

Dib couldn’t bear the sound – he pried the doors open and dove out just as the lift cleared the ceiling of the habitat. He came out at the exact spot where Zim had been trying to get in. They ended in a tangled mess on the floor.

Zim’s hands were bleeding from trying to scratch through the lift doors. There were bruises on his palms, elbows, shoulders, sides – nearly everywhere. Zim’s skin normally healed quickly. The force with which he’d bashed himself repeatedly against the lift doors must have been great to cause damage of such severity. Zim pressed Dib onto the floor, antennae forward, trembling. His lips were drawn back in fierce grimace. His eyes were wild and he seemed to be growling, as if he’d been reduced to some feral state.

Dib tried his best to console him, but it seemed as though there was very little he could do. His soft caresses and comforting words didn’t sink into the pit where Zim had fallen. It was his presence alone that Zim needed, drinking it in frantically, tasting his flesh, running his hands over every inch of skin, rubbing his antennae over Dib’s own in the way they’d discovered sent sparks down both of their spines.   
Only when Zim finally drew his face up close to his, and Dib said his name, Zim, did there finally begin to surface from the crimson abyss of his eyes some semblance of sanity.

It had been a question among the research team whether or not the alien they held as their captive and upon whom they subjected to countless intrusive experiments and autopsies was capable of crying. He had never done so, until now.

“How dare they? How dare they take you away from Zim?” Zim rasped, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. . .” Was all Dib could say. He used the end of his shirt sleeve to help Zim dry his cheeks. It was funny the way. . .how Zim could do that sometimes. He could make Dib feel as though nothing else really mattered. It didn’t matter that they were stuck on this planet where neither of them belonged, imprisoned in his father’s research lab, and watched at every turn. Dib tilted his head up so Zim could kiss him and they made love on the metal deck in front of the lift doors, as gently as Zim’s damaged body would allow.

~~~

Dib watched Zim eat the tasteless, bready rolls of nutrients that were provided to them daily. Or more accurately, he _snarfed_ them. The largish pile with which he'd started out was quickly diminishing. Apparently he hasn't eaten in over a week.

“Slow down, Zim. You'll make yourself sick.”

Zim grunted. He could be incredibly stubborn sometimes, but to Dib's surprise, he made a visible effort to follow his advice. Unfortunately, it was a little too late. Soon Zim joined him on the rag-bed, lying on his back, rubbing his bloated belly and  
groaning.

Pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged, Dib leaned over and began to stroke Zim's arm absentmindedly.

 _This probably isn’t the best time, I really just want to get this over with._

“I’ve got something to tell you, Zim. . .”

Zim burped, then turned his head to indicate that Dib had his full attention. His brow furrowed with impatience as Dib began to hesitate, trying to find the appropriate  
words.

“Well?” Zim asked.

Dib took a deep breath. “Zim, would it matter to you if I wasn't Irken?”

“What?”

“I mean, what if, say, I was just a clone, designed to resemble Irkens physically, but, well, with some human genes in the mix, and a mostly-human brain.”

Zim looked at him strangely. “Did they tamper with your head while you were out there?”

“No. At least - I don' t think they did.” Dib tried to suppress the paranoia that he was prone to and concentrate on the task at hand. “Will you just answer the question? Would it matter to you?”

Zim eyed him critically. “No. It wouldn't matter. Why should it?” He finally said.

Dib looked him in the eye. “Because I _am_ a clone.”

Zim frowned. “No you’re not.” He said, matter-of-factly.

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. I think I would know if I was a clone.”

“NO YOU WOULDN’T because you’re just _NOT!!!_ ” Zim was suddenly on his feet, screaming at him.

“I thought you said it wouldn’t matter to you if I was!”

“Of course it doesn’t matter to me because it’s not _TRUE!!! It can’t be true!_ You can’t be one of those. . .filth-creatures. Are you insane?! What did they do to you up there?!”

“They gave me a warm bed to sleep in and a hot meal because I’m the son of one of their top scientists.” The words were out of Dib’s mouth before he could even think about them. It was strange – in the human world he tended to be meek. There was something about being with Zim that drew out his more rash side.

“YOU’RE NOT HUMAN!!” Zim grabbed his collar and screamed into his face. “It’s NOT TRUE!! You may be different from any Irken I’ve met, but to go claiming that you’re human is just. . .just. . .LUDICROUS. . .You, you don’t know what you’re talking about. . .” He was ranting now, babbling, spittling with rage on Dib’s face.

Dib slapped Zim, hard, trying to bring him to his senses as Zim had done to him so many times. It didn’t work. Zim slapped right back, and soon they were tussling on the bed, rolling each other over, battling for dominance. Zim was smaller, malnourished, his body already battered and worn, but he still managed to pin Dib under him in very little time.

“If you were one of _them_ then you would be my enemy, and I have to kill you,” snarled Zim.

“Then why don’t you just go ahead and do it?” Replied Dib calmly.

“Because. . .because. . .” Zim stared at him, sputtering, trying to put words to something that he felt in his blood, his very bones, something that had long ago faded from his native language.

“Because whatever you are, you’re _mine._ ” He finally said.

“Yes I am. I’ll always be.” Dib told him.

Dib offered no more resistance, so Zim freed him. Dib pulled a sheet up over both of their heads and they lay there, looking at each other. Zim seemed a little numb.

It niggled in the back of Dib’s mind that the research team was still watching them from every angle. Their heat-sensing equipment could read their shapes, and their microphones could pick up every whispered word. He took Zim’s face in his hands.

“Listen to me, Zim. I’m not Irken. I’m not human, either. Not totally. But I still have a chance to make it out there, with them. If you could make the choice, where would you rather be? Trapped in here, powerless? Or would you rather be out there, free?”

Dib brought Zim’s hand, palm out, onto his chest. With his finger he drew the Irken symbol for 'wait' onto Zim’s palm.

 _Wait. Wait._

Zim stared at the message. Dib prayed that it was too subtle for the cameras to pick up.

“You’re not. . .you’re just not. . .” Zim shook his head, weak and bewildered.

“Zim, _please._ ”

Dib didn’t know how much he could say without being heard and making himself suspect. Zim just didn’t have words for any of the feelings that were eating him up from the inside. They met for a kiss, then drew back.

“Stay here with me, please.” Whispered Zim. “Don’t leave Zim alone. We can wait here together. These water-based creatures never live more than two hundred years, if that – their empires rise and fall like suns. Not one of them has ever reached past their own solar system. All we have to do is wait here, and watch all of this melt around us.”

Dib had been tempted by this decision already, but with Zim there beside him it wasn’t so simple anymore. It would be so easy to stay with Zim, to completely forget the human world outside. Eating, sleeping, making love when they pleased. Zim had only just started to teach him the elegant spoken language of his homeland – the way that it rolled off of his long, thin tongue just seemed so _right._

Dib swallowed hard. “I can’t wait here, Zim.” He said.

Looking him in the eye, Zim seemed to understand that he meant it.

“Go then. Just go.”

Zim looked away. He was retreating, Dib could see it. His eyes were getting dull and his limbs started to sag – all of his seemingly boundless energy was seeping out of him.

“Zim? I’m not going unless. . .I need to know that you’ll keep yourself safe.”

Zim shrugged. “I’ll be. . .”

 _Waiting?_ No, they couldn’t say the word. It would round suspicion. _Fine?_ No. Zim wouldn’t be fine. They both knew it. There was nothing else Zim could think to say. He closed his eyes.

“I’ll be here. Go.”

They held each other close and kissed one last time before Dib left him alone under the covers. Most of the light had already gone out of Zim’s eyes by the time Dib reached the lift doors and knocked on them. He didn’t even hear the hiss of hydraulics that carried his lover away.

~~~

It was hard at first for Professor Membrane to make a move against Simmons. The man was very good at taking credit for all of the major breakthroughs in his lab projects when he was away tending crises around the world. The last virus study had been particularly good for Simmons’s career, in that he’d managed to both find the cure and hide the death toll from the press.

Still, when a man with Professor Membrane’s considerable mental talents took a task upon himself it wouldn’t be too long before it would eventually be accomplished. In this particular case it was about two months before Simmons had been drummed out of the scientific community altogether. He couldn’t even get a job cleaning petrie dishes.

Dib bided his time. It would be four years before he would see Zim again, and only even then only from a camera feed when he interned in his father’s lab after graduating.

There had been a sudden, brief surge of public interest in the project after the ‘alien sex videos’ had surfaced. This brought with it a surge of funds that had increased both the size of the lab and its security detail. The lab had become one of the largest on the continent, the most famous in the world, and more heavily guarded than a top military prison after there had been several attempts made by radical groups to attack the facility and free the alien. This situation didn’t last long, fortunately. Interest died down soon after Zim stopped doing anything interesting, and in fact stopped doing anything at all.

Zim was sleeping. It seemed to be some sort of suspended animation that resembled a coma – the researchers hypothesized that it was intended to be used during long distance space travel. Every month or so he would get up to eat a little, but otherwise remained in his makeshift bed with his covers pulled up over his head like a shroud.

The public forgot all about him, and about his clone-partner whose name had never been revealed. The public had always had a short attention span anyways. Soon much of the new space in the lab sat empty, only the core stations remaining operational.

Dib took his time. He had been reinstated back into the human race, but he knew that it wouldn’t take much for him to be thrown back into a lab, especially once he was an adult and no longer his father’s ward.

He learned. He traveled. He tinkered in his father’s basement lab with as much of his time as he could spare.

He saw Professor Membrane about once a year, only a little less than when he and Gaz had been children. It didn’t bother him much anymore – he understood now, how a quest could eat up a person’s entire waking thoughts, and most of their sleeping ones too.

~~~

Zim didn’t remember being picked up. Slowly he opened his eyes to see the fluorescent tube lighting on the ceiling above, passing again and again as he traveled through an endless series of hallways. The arms carrying him were large, and clad in a starchy white material. He looked up at the person responsible for this unusual foray outside of the habitat.

It was a human, just some human – they all looked alike to Zim. Still, the fire of hope had been ignited briefly.

“Dib. . .?” Were the first words out of Zim’s mouth. The human looked down at him. “Are you Dib. . .in disguise, or something?” Zim asked.

The human smiled eerily. “Nope.” He replied.

“Oh.”

Zim closed his eyes and willed himself to go back to sleep. The process usually took at least a few minutes, and in the half-conscious state between waking and sleeping, he listened to the voices drifting past. . .

 _Security. . .haven’t seen you in awhile. . .busy, you know how it is. . .interesting package there. . .seems to check out. . .welcome back, Mr. Simmons. . ._


	8. Chapter 8

There was something exceedingly lovely about Irken engineering. It spoke to Dib, from the first blueprint draft he'd been able to pilfer from his father's lab to the clumsy replicas he finally got a chance to study in college. There were mysteries about Zim's ship that the entire community of the planet's scientists had yet to unlock. They pulled it apart, hemmed and hawed, sent it to different labs all over the world, and were still left scratching their heads. Even his father had given up after about ten years, saying that it would take a lifetime to discover all of its secrets, and his lifetime was far too precious to be wasted on just one project. Dib had only to look at it long enough, and he could somehow innately understand how it all worked.

Or at least he'd thought so until now.

"Goddamn!" The fuel thing-ama-giggies weren't lining up with the. . .other doodads. It had taken Dib six months to smuggle the one fist-sized part out of a lab in Germany. If he didn't know better, he'd almost think the scientists there had been playing tennis with it – all of its smaller metal tubes seemed to be bent out of shape. He estimated that he only had half an hour before he was discovered and the past six year's work was flushed down the drain.

The doors hissed open – Dib stiffened, certain that it was one of his father's colleagues, coming to check on why the security cameras were down.

It was Simmons.

Dib breathed a sigh of relief. _It's just Simmons, and he's got Zim. Those fake clearance cards actually worked._

"Bring him here." Dib ordered. Simmons obediently carried Zim over and set him down in Dib's arms.

It had been about a year since Dib had tracked Simmons down. Nobody had missed the scientist-cum-janitor after his mysterious disappearance. In fact some of his colleagues at the Chicky-Lickey (which was the only place he'd been able to get work these past six years) were secretly relieved – the guy put them on edge somehow. But now he had a chip in his head, courtesy of Dib, which made him a perfectly obedient slave.

"Now go sit in the corner, and. . .stand on your head or something." He waved Simmons away.

"Sure thing." Replied Simmons perkily. No matter how many adjustments Dib made to that chip, he couldn't get rid of that creepy personality.

He set Zim on the floor. The holo-disguise that Dib had made to help Simmons sneak him out of the habitat made him look like an oddly-shaped package wrapped in brown paper. Dib smiled. For a moment he wished that it was brown paper – he would have the pleasure of unwrapping Zim like a big present.

Finding the button at the back of the holo-disguise collar he'd made for Zim, Dib deactivated the disguise.

"Zim! Zim! Wake up!"

Slowly Zim opened his eyes.

"Dib?" He asked.

"Yeah, Zim. It's me." Dib reached to the collar of his own holo-disguise, shutting it off for the first time in years. His real face was only for Zim now.

Zim smiled weakly and reached up to touch his cheek.

Carrying Zim into the vootcruiser, Dib set him down on the passenger's seat. He leaned over to take one long, slow kiss. Zim sleepily hiked up his clothes, and though he was sorely tempted by the offer, Dib had to tear himself away.

"There isn't time, Zim. . .still have to fix the ship."

Zim seemed to realize where he was for the first time.

"My ship!"

Sitting up, Zim took quick stock of the controls. A few light touches on the panel brought the machine to life.

"Computer?"

 _"Yes, Zim?"_ A strange voice said out of nowhere.

"Fix the ship!"

 _"Okay. . .working."_

Dib gaped as long mechanical arms shot out of the ship, grabbing the parts laid out on the ground and feeding them into the ship's body.

"Some of the parts were damaged." said Dib.

Zim took no notice. One of the computer panels showed a detailed diagram of the ship – there were some parts shown in red that Dib recognized as sections that needed repair.

"As long as the nanobot hive hasn't been destroyed, the computer will take care of it." Stated Zim.

The diagram showed small streams of blue particles whizzing through the ship's circuitry, re-building their way through the damaged sections until the entire ship blinked green – whole, healthy, and ready for lift-off.

Zim turned smugly to Dib.

"Now, where were we?"

There wasn't much to say. Dib kissed him passionately. He has to pull away once again before things could go too far.

"Still have to take care of one more thing." Said Dib before hopping out of the ship.

Approaching the door panel, Dib plugged a command by-pass into it and let it perform its program. The hangar they were in now was deep underground – there was little chance they would have been able to blast their way out even if the ship's weapons weren't completely drained. Dib waited for the device to hack its way into the system and find the code to open the hangar doors and let them out onto the surface.

Blood no doubt pooling in his head, Simmons balanced obediently upside-down at the corner of the room. Dib looked at him.

"Come here, Simmons." Dib ordered, arms crossed.

Simmons fell over, got up, and obeyed. There was no sign of intelligence in that vacant smile as Dib studied him, but there could be detected in his eyes a definite trace of. . .fear.

Dib coolly met Simmons's eyes. He would be leaving Earth now, and he wouldn't be bringing Simmons with him – they both knew that. Over the course of his chip-induced enthrallment to Dib, Simmons had suffered though enough humiliating indignities to expect the worst.

It was possible that Dib might order Simmons to go drown himself in the nearest men's bathroom toilet once he was gone – this was in fact what Dib was contemplating that very moment.

"Simmons. . ." Dib began finally, looking him straight in the eyes. "Go back and wait in the corner. After I leave you're free to do what you want again, EXCEPT, you're not every going to force anyone to do anything ever again. You need to, I don't know, try to be a better person. Help people. Stop being such a creep. You used to be a good scientist – try to be more like my dad, or something. Got it?"

"Okay." Replied Simmons.

Dib sighed and waved Simmons away. He really couldn't predict what Simmons would do once he left, and it worried him, but he'd done his best. Dib wouldn't say that it was his humanity that had stopped him, but for some reason it just wasn't in him to commit cold-blooded murder.

"Thank you." Added Simmons, before he went back to his corner. Dib hoped it was a good sign.

The hacking device made a series of chittering noises which told Dib that its task had succeeded. It was, in theory, the last barrier to their escape. Dib's breath hitched and he could practically taste the cool light of the distant stars that would fill their view soon. Plucking the device from the door panel, he hurried back over to the cruiser and jumped in.

Zim was at the helm. The door closed behind Dib, and the ship lifted itself up off the floor. The doors on the ceiling of the hangar parted, leading to a corridor of solid stone where they passed several more such gates of reinforced steel, each gliding open to let them pass. They rose up and up and up.

Some of the doors were quicker to part than others. It was the last, by Dib's reckoning, that looked like it was going to take the longest. They waited. It didn't open. Dib tried to breathe normally.

"Can we blast through it, or batter it, or. . .something."

Zim stared at the gate as though it wasn't there, as though he couldn't see it. It wasn't there – it couldn't be there. Closed, strong, impenetrable if the build of the other gates has been anything to go by. He didn't reply.

"Someone is trying to open a channel," informed the computer. Zim blinked. He looked down at the console dully for a few moments, then finally chose a button to press.

After a few moments, during which a message pop-up informed them that the computer was deciphering alien communication signals, a window on the view screen opened up with a feed.

It was Professor Membrane.

"You may have hacked the other gates, son, but you forgot that the outer exit is controlled from its own SEPARATE mainframe."

Behind Professor Membrane, the other scientists in the research wing sat working at their stations. They were a diligent bunch, only a few stopping to gape at the feed on the screen that Professor Membrane was watching.

"Oh yeah, you're right." Dib didn't try to wonder what would happen to them now. Something bad, he knew. He stared blankly at his father.

Professor Membrane looked down at the panel in front of him. He punched a series of buttons.

The last door opened.

Zim took them up without hesitation, out into the clear air beyond, headed for the stars.

In the room behind Professor Membrane, red alarm lights turned on and began to blink slowly.

"Does this place have any defence mechanisms?" Asked Zim.

"Yes, but I'm shutting them down right now," replied Professor Membrane, still occupied with the computer console.

The sky spread out before them, the stars welcoming them to their freedom.

"Where will you go?" Asked Professor Membrane.

Dib was numb. "Irk, I guess," he replied.

"No, not Irk," said Zim. "This one has foreign genes." He gestured to Dib. "He is technically defective. They would feed him to a tar-beast."

"Oh would they? Where then?" asked Professor Membrane.

"Somewhere else. There are places the Empire will not conquer for hundreds of years or more. _Zim_ will find one," said Zim.

"Good. See that you take care of my son."

Zim nodded.

There was a door visible on the opposite end of the room in which Professor Membrane stood. It opened, and a cadre of armed guards spilled out, heading straight for him.

"Goodbye, Dib," said Professor Membrane

Dib was still having trouble processing it all, but he found this moment and held onto it. "Goodbye, Dad," he said.

Two soldiers grabbed Professor Membrane by each arm just as the feed cut out.

There was a low windy noise as the ship escaped the atmosphere. When they were out into space Zim pressed a few buttons and they sped up.

No missile could reach them now.

They were free.


End file.
